


Tricky Treats

by LoveHonorCookie



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail is a little matchmaker, Canon-Typical Violence, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Dark Will Graham, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 02:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveHonorCookie/pseuds/LoveHonorCookie
Summary: AU where Single!Surgeon!Hannibal really loves Halloween, goes all out decorating his house and ALWAYS hands out candy to the little trick-or-treaters. This year, he is just ENCHANTED by the little Lizzie Borden who comes to his door, Abigail Graham (and her handsome father, Will.)What he doesn't know is that Will hunts serial killers, like Abigail's father, and trick-or-treating was just a way for them to vet the place. All Hallow's Eve turns into a game of cat-or-cat as Will Graham stalks Hannibal Lecter.Or maybe Hannibal Lecter is stalking Will Graham.





	1. Trick

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off a Twitter thought, and while I have the whole thing outlined, I don't know if I'll have enough time to get the second half out before Halloween. So, in time with the season, I wanted to get the first part up, second part likely Friday or Saturday. This is mostly just going to be fun, fluffy slapstick, with no deeper meaning and no betaing whatsoever.

As a highly capable, in-demand surgeon with a certain amount of seniority, Dr. Hannibal Lecter was guaranteed two requested holidays off per year. The only one he ever requested, and was granted, of course, was Halloween.

While he enjoyed Christmas and New Years and the various rituals associated with those celebrated days, Halloween was the only day he required free from his employ. Hannibal was in demand socially as well as professionally, and whenever he may have free to mark those other days, he was sure to have company. But one could not reschedule the pomp and circumstance of a neighborhood at Halloween. That one night of the year, when the earth is damp and dying, among the blood-red and bile-orange leaves, a parade of monsters just like himself held court on the streets of Baltimore. Ghouls and ghosts, fiends and faeries, vampires and victors filled the sidewalks and parade door to door to be paid homage to and admired. 

Of course they were, in reality, mostly children, the occasional brave teenager. However, Hannibal had always been fond of both children and the brave, and always saw fit to reward those who ventured to his door with king-sized candy bars (he used to make his own treats, of course, but the neighborhood had put a rule in place that everything must be store bought and in its original packaging… allergens.) He did, however, continue to keep cider mulling in the kitchen, and a few baked goods ready on the counter, for the more familiar and trusting families.

And of course, every year, he crafted an elaborate tableau, with allusions to Poe, or Shelley, or the particular year in question’s theme, Lovecraft. A few carefully trimmed toperiaries served as the rolling waves of the ocean, while various flowers and vines provided the body of the mythical beast himself- Cthulhu, rising the call on the poets and the madmen, to overtake the earth and give rise to the reign of the Old Ones yet again. Candles were, unfortunately, not practical with so many children, but he made do with artificial ones that cast strange and entrancing shadows over the whole scene. It was beautiful and unsettling, without being too frightening for the littlest ones.

As for a costume, Hannibal always went as the scariest thing he knew of- himself. While everyone else was in disguise, he was free to be seen as he was. 

Of course, no one knew what they were looking at.

Hannibal had been ready since two in the afternoon, and the very youngest had started making the rounds at about four. Their costumes were mostly store-bought and sweet, more to the parent’s tastes than any child’s- there were pumpkins and strawberries, angels and little demons that brought a smile to Hannibal’s lips in his own private joke. It was now nearing 8:30, and the last of the older children, with their more elaborate costumes, were finishing up. More than a few parents had stopped in, for Hannibal’s famous cider (some with a little bourbon) and a beautifully decorated seasonal cookie for the children, who all knew and adored the friendly and unflappable doctor. He even had a large bucket set up with apples bobbing in the water, to the nostalgic delight of the parents and the gleeful joy of the children. It was, all in all, a delightful evening, full of the sense of community he so thoroughly enjoyed and the enchantment the real world was so often lacking.

Just as he was considering turning the lights off in the yard, placing the remaining candy bars on the stoop, and calling it an evening, another knock came to rouse him to action again. Dutifully, Hannibal opened the door, and lost the ability to breathe for a full thirty seconds at the sight before him.

Beautiful, clear blue eyes, against skin as white and clear as cream and hair as black as coal. Snow White herself would be green with envy at this man’s coloring. And while he seemed delicate, there was also something glinting and sharp about him, like he could dance on the end of a knife. An inch or so shorter than Hannibal, and slighter, but solid. And those eyes- fierce yet friendly, intelligent and guarded. Hannibal felt he had waited a lifetime for eyes like that. He had never even imagined love at first sight before, but looking at the face in front of him, he felt his inner world shift on its axis.

The spell he was under was momentarily broken by a soft, high voice: “Trick or treat!” 

Hannibal looked down to see the owner of the voice, to find a girl of about 7 or 8 with similarly blue eyes, straight fawn brown hair, creamy white skin dotted with freckles, and tiny hands wielding an equally tiny toy ax.

Hannibal blinked back and forth between the two strangers at his door for a moment, then regained his normally unfailing self-control. He squatted down to take a look at the little ax-murderer. “And who might you be, my dear?”

The little girl flushed with excitement. “I’m Lizzie Borden!” She exclaimed. 

Hannibal gave a soft chuckle at that. “Of course you are, I can see that now. And what if I said ‘trick’ instead of ‘treat’, Lizzie?”

The blue eyes in front of him narrowed in thought, the lips pursed in consideration, before she reasoned, “Well, I guess I’d have to ax murder you.”

“Abigail!” The man standing just slightly behind her admonished, then shrugged his shoulders apologetically. “It was on some Netflix documentary that got past the parental controls, and she was so excited about the costume idea, I thought it couldn’t hurt. I really am sorry, Mister…?”

“Dr. Lecter,” Hannibal provided smoothly, using the man’s segue as an opportunity to offer him his hand. “And it’s quite alright. I did ask the question.” Hannibal turned his attention back to the young murderess. “And now that I know the consequences, I shall have to go with ‘treat.’ Please take a candy bar, and spare this house.” 

Abigail took the bar and put it into her pillowcase, which Hannibal noted was a bit more worn in then one would see in the neighborhood, even for an excursion like this. He then also took note of the man’s clothes, an old but good quality jacket, intended for outdoor use, a pair of serviceable but similarly aged pants.

“I’ve not seen you two about the neighborhood before,” Hannibal said, purposely leaving the statement open.

“We’re new,” the man said, then immediately breathed out and gave a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry, that’s a lie. We’re actually not from the neighborhood, but one of Abigail’s schoolmates lives here and has been crowing about your candy bars. I just didn’t want Abby to feel left out. That’s probably terribly rude, isn’t it?”

Hannibal likely would normally have found it very rude. But from the pair standing before him, Hannibal found he was ready to forgive all sorts of things. “Rude of her classmate to crow. And unfortunate, because if they only mentioned the candy bars, they may not be privy to the cookies I have in the kitchen.”

“Cookies!” Abigail cried, then bit her lip. “Are you saying I can have one?”

Hannibal looked to the man, who still had not stated his name. “I am saying you are welcome to not only have a cookie, but a cider as well, and then who will have cause to boast tomorrow in the classroom? That is, if your father does not object.”

Will rubbed his hands together, the chill clearly getting to him. “I don’t object at all. Thank you for the offer, Dr. Lecter.”

“Please, call me Hannibal, just Hannibal.” Hannibal gestured for them to come in. “And what may I call you?” he questioned as he removed the man’s slightly worn jacket, lowering his voice slightly in pitch as he spoke quite close to the man’s somehow-adorable ear.

To Hannibal’s delight, the man shuddered minutely, and his response had just a hint of breathlessness. “Will,” he said. “Just Will.”

“Well, just Will, and Lizzie, right this way.” Hannibal led them into the kitchen, where Abigail squealed in delight seeing the ghost, pumpkin, witch and vampire cookies sitting freshly baked on the counter, the smell of cider in the air, and the centerpieces and bouquets made of skulls and beautiful black roses adorning the room. She caught sight of the bucket, filled with water and apples, and asked, “What’s that?” 

“That,” Hannibal replied, leading her over to the bucket’s edge, “Is for apple bobbing. It’s traditional for this season, where I am from, and I brought the custom with me. It’s very simple- you try and snatch an apple from the water, using only your teeth.” Abigail looked uncertainly at the bucket, so Hannibal further offered. “I shall show you.” Unerringly, he plucked an apple by its stem with his incisors, grinning broadly around it before letting it fall into his open hands. “You try. If you succeed, I’ll give you a reward.”

“Like trick or treat!” Abigail exclaimed. 

Hannibal’s smile was all teeth as he looked at Just Will over Abigail’s head. “Exactly.” Will’s responding lip quirk was a twin of Hannibal’s expression as Abigail dove into the bucket, chasing an apple, then another, until finally she emerged victorious with a small red orb in between her small jaws.

She let the apple drop into her lap, then looked at Hannibal expectingly. “What is my treat?”

Hannibal smirked before standing on guiding both Will and Abigail over to sit on his counter. “You get one treat now, and one for later,” he said, sliding one vampire cookie across the counter, before also presenting an already wrapped ghost-to-go. A pumpkin found it’s way in front of Will as well. “And one for your father, of course.” 

“Why does Daddy Will get a pumpkin and I get a vampire?” Abigail queried.

Hannibal looked at Abigail curiously for a moment, pausing both at her question and her mode of addressing Will, before responding, “Would you prefer a pumpkin?”

Abigail’s nose squished up and she shook her head. “Nuh-uh! But a pumpkin isn’t scary, and Daddy Will is scary.”

Hannibal looked at Will, who was staring at him in amusement, before he decided on his next action. “Quite right,” he said, removing the offending pumpkin cookie and placing a witch one in its stead. “I think this is better suited.”

“Much better!” Abigail stated in contentment. “Now can I eat it?”

Both Hannibal and Will laughed as they nodded their assent, and Hannibal prepared them all ciders- his and Will’s with just a splash of bourbon. Not too much, as Will was driving, after all. The three of them chatted and laughed, Hannibal revealing his position at John Hopkins as a surgeon, Abigail telling Hannibal all about the 3rd grade, and Will eventually cagily admitting to being a teacher.

“Not just any teacher!” Abigail interrupted excitedly, as she charmed another cookie out of Hannibal. “Daddy Will teaches at the F.B.I.!”

This new bite of information washed over Hannibal like cold water at first, then aburptly he was warm again as he looked at the handsome F.B.I. instructor. “I’m a forensic scientist. Very boring stuff. What I’m mainly known for is using insect activity to determine, uh, well… time of… you know, this isn’t great kid conversation.”

Hannibal smiled kindly at Will, before offering, “Not suited for little ears, perhaps, but I think I would find it fascinating. Would you be available to discuss it sometime over dinner?”

Will blushed before shrugging. “It’s really not that interesting. Mostly, it’s very dry, except, of course, when you’re in the sort of climate… see, it’s all very technical.”

“While I would be delighted to try and keep up,” Hannibal interrupted, “I think perhaps I am being unclear. I believe I would find anything you wished to speak of fascinating, and I would love to have you for dinner.”

Both Will and Abigail blinked at Hannibal, before Will’s eyes widened and Abigail smiled broadly.

“Are you asking Daddy Will out?” Abigail squealed.

“I am,” Hannibal confirmed. “Do you think he’ll accept?”

“I will,” Will confirmed.

Hannibal’s smile was shark-like.

***

Later, as Hannibal was turning all the lights in his opulent Baltimore home out, he could not tear his thoughts from the beautiful and singularly charming Will Graham, who had agreed to come over the coming Saturday night and let Hannibal wine and dine him, and hopefully, after an after-dinner whiskey, he would learn what those rose-petal pink lips tasted like. He had felt a moment of alarm, of course, when he learned of Will’s association with the F.B.I., but a forensic instructor would likely not be looking too closely at the cases which concerned Hannibal. And after all, Hannibal had not been ‘active’ to their knowledge for almost two years. No one was looking his way right now. And who knows- perhaps the handsome professor could give him perspective on how the F.B.I conducts its business when it’s not busy breaking down doors.

Thoughts of the very interesting young father occupied his mind even as he climbed into bed, and let the early levels of sleep wash over him- so lost in his own thoughts was Hannibal, that he didn’t even feel the knife until it was at his throat, a weight settling over his hips. 

“I think,” the now familiar voice of Professor Will Graham spoke, “That getting me in bed was your plan in the end, after all, Doctor.” 

Hannibal was cornered, and in his own home.

Hannibal was _ smitten _.


	2. Trickier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal struggled to move, in vain, it seemed. They were really excellent knots.
> 
> “You won’t be getting away this time. I tied those knots myself. And I am very good at ropework.”
> 
> “I’ll keep that in mind for the future,” Hannibal replied easily, looking not at all conquered despite the situation.
> 
> “Hannibal, we have little ears here,” Will admonished, “And I’m pretty sure I’ve made it clear that I don’t see a future for us.”

If Hannibal had been asked to describe how it might make him feel if someone were able to sneak up on him in his own house, in his own  _ bed _ , and threaten his life at knifepoint, Hannibal would have been unbelieving that such a circumstance could occur. But he would have likely guessed his feelings would be anger, or irritation.

However, at the reality of having Will Graham’s hips pressed against his as the knife in Will’s hand pressed against his jugular, the only word Hannibal could evoke was ‘ _ delight _ .’

“I assure you, my plans for you are entirely honorable, and include a long courtship leading up to any such overtures, Will,” Hannibal said smoothly, much more smoothly than he should have, considering the circumstances. “And please, do call me Hannibal. Formalities like titles are rude after you’ve accepted my hospitality.”

“Hannibal,” Will whispered as he exerted just slightly more pressure on the knife, enough to knick Hannibal’s skin if he made the slightest movement. “Or should I say… Ripper.”

A shudder went through Hannibal’s body, causing the knife at his throat to break the skin just the tiniest bit. He smiled as he felt the trickle make its way to his collarbone, and his smile only widened when he saw Will watching it make its journey with interest.

“Well done, Will,” Hannibal complimented, as Will relaxed his hold on the knife just slightly, enough to allow Hannibal to speak. “What gave it away, Professor Graham? Or are you not just a professor at the F.B.I.?”

Will nodded, conceding Hannibal’s point. “Not just a professor. Special Agent Graham. In addition to my coursework, I’m a profiler. I consult on some of the more… tricky cases. And to answer your question, your garden.”

Hannibal blinked blankly at the revelation. “My garden?”

Will smirked. “Your Cthulhu. The Ripper’s an old case, I’ve never had the distinction of seeing any of your… arrangements in person. Until I drove by your house, quite by accident, earlier in the week. I’ve seen enough photos to recognize the Ripper’s handiwork.”

“What a cunning boy you are,” Hannibal said, with admiration and fondness. “But a knife, Will? Really?”

Will cocked his head curiously. “Would you have preferred gardening shears, for the poetic justice? Hoisted by your own petard?”

“Not at all,” Hannibal purred. “I’d prefer your hands. Makes it more intimate, doesn’t it? Evens our odds?”

Will’s grin was cruel, “Who says I want the odds even? Or intimacy?” 

“Why bother to come here earlier, why work your way inside, why introduce me to your daughter? Admit it, Will. You were curious about me.”

Will’s face softened a bit. “You’re right. I was. I am. The Chesapeake Ripper. I had to… I had to know you. I had to know who you were, beneath these… elaborate tableaus.”

The knife was placed, not without care, on the bedside table.

“You’re right. Let’s do this right. With my hands.” Will’s face was not unkind. “I really do like you, Hannibal. It’ll be quick.”

Will was right. It was quick.

It was only a matter of seconds for Hannibal to use his greater muscle density to rear up, butting his head against Will’s own, knocking him off balance. Then, he rolled them over so Will was underneath him, and held his large hand over Will’s mouth and nose relentlessly until Will’s wiry body stopped struggling beneath him, his brilliant blue eyes drifted shut, and his breathing slowed to the danger point. 

Hannibal would not let him go beyond that point.

Oh, he knew what the smart thing to do was. The smart thing would be to continue past the point where Will Graham never drew breathe again, then drag him to the base, butcher him, and have a dinner party. Yes, the best course would be to eliminate the risk and dispose of Will Graham.

But looking down at the deceptively peaceful face of the incapacitated profiler, he knew he would do no such thing. He was not just going to let this enchanting creature go now that he had found him. He would simply have to try and make Will see things his way.

Hannibal knew he could be remarkably persuasive, when given time and the correct tools. 

Hannibal gathered Will up in his arms, bridal style, and headed towards the basement- he was not going to hurt the profiler, but he needed him away from the windows, needed him someplace sound proof. This could take a while.

And of course, there was the matter of little Abby to consider. Hannibal would have to search Will once he had him secured, and determine where Abigail was, what contacts he maintained with others- perhaps there was someone she could stay with while Will was ‘missing’-

He was nearly at the bottom of the stairs, when Hannibal’s thoughts were cut short as he…  _ tripped _ over something. Truly and actually tripped. As he lost and struggled to regain his balance, his feet tangling in whatever had caught him before, he felt Will begin to move in his arms, clearly awaking and assessing the situation, when suddenly he rocked against Hannibal with all his weight, sending him back onto the stairs, his head hitting with a sickening thud.

Then Will’s strong hand was over his nose and mouth, insistent but also somehow soothing. The last thing Hannibal saw before his eyes closed were two serious pairs of blue eyes, and Will’s warm, sweet voice saying, “Well done, Abby.”

***

When Hannibal came to, both those serious blue eyes were still there, along with a throbbing pain in his skull. He was seated, and his body was sore, constrained. He looked down to find himself tied to one of the chairs Abigail and Will had been sitting in earlier that evening, then looked back up at his two captors.

He was so pleased and impressed by them.

“Welcome back, Hannibal,” Will smiled darkly, the knife from earlier back in his hands. “That was good. Really, it was very impressive. You almost had me.”

Hannibal struggled to move, in vain, it seemed. They were really excellent knots.

“You won’t be getting away this time. I tied those knots myself. And I am very good at ropework.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the future,” Hannibal replied easily, looking not at all conquered despite the situation.

“Hannibal, we have little ears here,” Will admonished, “And I’m pretty sure I’ve made it clear that I don’t see a future for us.”

Hannibal winked at Abigail, then smirked at Will, “That’s unfortunate, because I do. I was perfectly sincere in my offer of dinner. We could still follow that road- you could untie me, I could let you both drive off, and you could come back Saturday night. We could see what happens. I won’t hold tonight against you at all.”

“Wow,” Will said, testing the sharpness of the knife against his thumb, a sight that made Hannibal’s stomach heat pleasantly. “You  _ like _ me.”

Hannibal was unphased. “I do.”

Will’s eyes narrowed. “Did you like the people you murdered?”

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed in response. “I thought we were concerned about little ears.”

“It’s okay, Hannibal! Daddy Will only hurts the BAD guys,” Abigail’s thin and high voice piped up. “Like my other daddy. Daddy Will explained it to me- doing bad things to bad can be good.”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. “Your other daddy.” Hannibal looked at Will. “You’re not her biological father.”

“No.” Will confirmed, beginning to circle Hannibal, likely to confirm Hannibal hadn’t managed to free himself somehow. “Do you remember the Minnesota Shrike case?”

“Last year,” Hannibal answered. “He killed 8 teenage girls, all with long brown hair, blue eyes, wind-chafed skin. All just going off to college for the first time.” Will had circled back in front of Hannibal, and their eyes locked. “And then it suddenly stopped last year.”

“Garrett Jacob Hobbs.” Will said the name with disdain. “I found him. Unfortunately, not before he gutted his wife like a deer. Abby was left all alone, sprayed with her blood.” The next part he said quietly, almost to himself. “I couldn’t leave her.”

“Abigail reminds you of the best parts of yourself. The good work you do when you do the things you do.” Hannibal realized, saw how important the little girl was to Will, no different than if he had sired her himself. Abigail was Will’s daughter, in all the ways that mattered.

“ _ Yes _ .” Will hissed. “People who do what he did deserve what I do to them.” Will kneeled down so they were at eye level. “You’re going to deserve what I do to you.”

“We’re not so different, you and I.” Hannibal tried to appear as non-threatening as possible. “Aren’t you curious? Why them, Will? Why do I choose them?”

Will breathed out heavily. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “But I do know you think they are  _ pigs _ . Animals. Beneath you.” 

Then something close to  _ hope _ entered Will’s eyes. “Are they predators, Hannibal? Are they hurting someone? Tell me. Tell me and I’ll stop this.”

Hannibal could lie. He was good at it. He could lie, and Will would let him go, and they could have dinner. And slowly, over months, Hannibal could make Will fall so deeply in love with him that the truth would cease to matter.

But he wouldn’t. For the first time in his life, he saw the chance for total honesty. And he would risk anything for it.

So he tilted his chin up and replied, “They are rude.”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Will hissed again, eyes closing, considering, then opening with new knowledge. “Yes, of course. It makes perfect sense.” Then he stood again, grip tightening on the knife. “But it’s not good enough, Hannibal.  _ They _ don’t  _ deserve _ it.”

The first tendrils of frustration began to grip Hannibal. He just had to make Will  _ see _ \- he knew Will would understand, Hannibal just needed time.

He looked from the knife in Will’s hand, over to Abigail’s sincere little face, and a plan struck.

“I understand, Will,” Hannibal appeared to acquiesce. “You must follow your nature. However, might I make one last request?”

Will looked at him with consideration. “Okay, as a favor, because despite it all, I do like you, too. What is it you’d like?”

Hannibal steeled himself, in order to let himself be vulnerable. The best lies are laced with truth. 

“Before I came to this country, I had a sister. She died quite young. In the upstairs dining room, there is a china cabinet. In it, you will find a series of small teacups with the Lecter crest on it.” Hannibal smiled minutely. “You will know it is our crest by the large serpent. My sister loved those teacups. I would very much wish to see one again before you… do what you must.”

Will nodded slowly. “Alright. I suppose it’s no trouble to me to grant you that.” Will turned to Abigail, face softening to a fond warmth. “You’ve done such a good job, Abigail. Can you help me one more time tonight, and watch Hannibal while I go get him what he asked for? Then you can go wait upstairs.” Will looked back at Hannibal. “I’m assuming at this point, it won’t matter if she has another cookie.”

Hannibal nodded, amused. “Certainly. While I had hoped to express this sentiment under different circumstances, what’s mine is yours.”

Will’s smile was sad. “I do wish things could be different, Hannibal.”

Then he left, and Hannibal had Abigail all to himself. True, it was only for a few minutes.

But Hannibal could get a lot done in just a few minutes.

“You like Daddy Will, don’t you, Abigail?” 

Abigail looked at him only a bit wearily, but responded with enthusiasm. “I do! Daddy Will has been very nice to me. He says I only have to join in when I want to, and never gets mean like my old daddy used to.”

“Do you think Daddy Will is lonely, Abigail?” Abigail looked at Hannibal thoughtfully, and so Hannibal continued. “After all, your old daddy had your mom. Do you think Will wants another grown up around, like your mom, to help take care of you?”

Abigail nodded. “Yes, that would be nice. Daddy Will works really hard, and sometimes the hours are long. It would be nice to have someone home when he isn’t. The dogs are nice, but they aren’t a mom.”

“How many dogs does Daddy Will have?” Hannibal asked, mentally preparing a cleaning schedule that would accommodate for multiple canines.

“Seven! Buster is my favorite. But I think Daddy Will likes Winston best.” 

Seven. Dogs.

Well, luckily, Hannibal has always required little sleep.

“You know, Abigail, I like to be at home. And I cook all my own food. Is Daddy Will a good cook?”

Abigail made a face, scrunching up her button nose. “No, Daddy Will microwaves a lot.”

Hannibal had to survive this, if only to save his little blue-eyed darlings from eating  _ microwaved meals _ .

“Do you like me, Abigail?” 

Abigail gave him astonishingly pensive look. “I guess so. You’ve been real nice, and you did give me that extra cookie. Kayleigh is gonna be SO jealous tomorrow.”

So the classmate story was true.

“Well, if we could convince Daddy Will to let me go, I could make you more cookies. In fact, I could make you dinners. I could make you lunches to take to school, and wouldn’t Kayleigh be pea green with envy all the time?”

“Yeah, she  _ would _ !” Abigail exclaimed, liking the idea very much. 

“How about this,” Hannibal proposed evenly, as he would to any adult. “You untie me, so that Daddy Will can’t hurt me, and we’ll all talk and see what we can’t work out.”

Abigail looked at him a little uncertainly. “You just wanna talk to Daddy Will, right? You don’t wanna hurt him.”

“Of course not, Abigail,” Hannibal swore, for once completely honest. “I want to take care of him. You too.”

“You promise?”

Hannibal winked again. “I’ll pinky promise. But I’ll need my hands free to do that.”

Abigail’s uncertainty turned to glee, and Hannibal felt an old, long forgotten tug in his chest.

Then, the little blue eyed ax murderer took her tiny ax and chopped unerringly through his restraints.

So… not a toy, after all.

Hannibal rubbed his wrists, bringing circulation back, and cracked his ankles. He really wasn’t as young as he once was.

Immediately, Abigail was before him, extending a tiny pinky finger at him. “Now pinky promise. You have to keep eye contact, or it doesn’t count.” Hannibal smiled, and hooked his pinky with Abigail’s, and they each kissed their own fist while maintaining eye-contact.

Hannibal wondered if they would be doing this the easy way, or the hard way.

“Abigail, WHAT are you doing?” Came the panicked shout of Will Graham from the doorway.

So they weren’t doing this the easy way, then. 


	3. Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clad only in his boxer-briefs, Hannibal finds himself standing down against Will Graham, clutching his silk pajama pants, and a tiny, angry Lizzie Borden, brandishing her definitely-not-a-toy-ax as well as his baby sister’s favorite teacup, and glowering at him. Hannibal himself was clutching only a spatula and a pumpkin shaped cookie cutter.

Hannibal’s options were limited, he considered, as Will rushed down the stairs. Offensive attack would be better odds, but he had just pinky promised Abigail, and Hannibal understood a pinky promise to be among one of the more sacred vows one could undertake with someone under the age of 12. His body remained alert, prepared to strike, but he allowed the profiler to make his way between Hannibal and Abigail, Will firmly but gently placing Abigail behind him protectively.

“This isn’t your fault, Abigail. This is mine. This is what happens when you let them get too close, when you start to identify too much with them.” Will had one hand on Abigail’s shoulder, and one clenched around a small, old fashioned teacup.

Mischa’s teacup. Despite the less-than-ideal-circumstances, the sight of the tiny piece of china in Will’s big, strong hand made Hannibal smile minutely. 

“Abigail, hold this,” Will handed the teacup to his daughter, just as Hannibal began to- he hoped- reason with Will.

“Now, Will, let’s just-”

That was as far as Hannibal got before Will sucker punched him so hard, he saw stars.

Before Hannibal could recover, Will landed another hard hit to his stomach, and Hannibal crumbled to the ground, face near Will’s ankles.

Well, since they were doing this the hard way…

Will was leaning over, probably to try and subdue him further, when Hannibal reached forward with his mouth and sunk his teeth right into Will’s calf.

“Oh, my god, you BIT me!” Will cried, stumbling backward and giving Hannibal a possible path to the exit

Hannibal took it, racing towards the door, Abigail shrieking scoldingly behind him, “You SAID you wouldn’t hurt Daddy Will!”

Hannibal was fast, faster than most men, but Will was LIGHTNING. Hannibal was about halfway up the stairs when a strong hand gripped the Italian silk fabric of his pajamas.

“Goddamn, this fabric is slick as hell,” Will said, reaching up with another hand to grab at the other leg.

Hannibal grimaced- the fabric was excellent quality, and Will’s dear and darling hands were probably FILTHY. Despite the indignity, he made his decision, and slipped his hands into his waistband, shedding himself of the silken layer and running up the rest of the stairs in his boxer-briefs and his nightshirt.

“I cannot BELIEVE you just did that!” Will called out after him, and Hannibal could hear the multiple pairs of feet scramble behind him as he dashed into the kitchen, trying to find a weapon.

Not a knife, not a knife… he truly did not want to harm them. Not a frying pan, he could do too much damage to Will’s beautiful mind. 

Which is how he found himself standing down against Will Graham, clutching his silk pajama pants, and a tiny, angry Lizzie Borden, brandishing her definitely-not-a-toy-ax as well as his baby sister’s favorite teacup, and glowering at him. Hannibal himself was clutching only a spatula and a pumpkin shaped cookie cutter.

Will picked up the rolling pin that had been left on the counter, and swung, but Hannibal ducked, swatting and hitting the shoulder he had seen Will gently avoiding over the course of the night. Will grunted, and swung again, maneuvering forward and missing again. Hannibal considered his options- he just needed Will to calm down, he need him to be reasonable, he needed him to- oh, who was he kidding, he needed the profiler unconscious so he could tie him up and keep him from beating the hell out of him. 

To distract Will, Hannibal chucked the cookie cutter square between Will’s eyes, which made him blink and twitch rather adorably. But Hannibal couldn’t allow himself to be enchanted by the sight, and instead barrelled into him, pushing them both directly into the bucket containing all the apples. Now that Hannibal had the upper hand, he dropped the spatula, and focused on keeping the profiler’s head under the water. Not till he stopped breathing, just till he passed out. This was difficult, because tiny hands were barrelling at his back. 

“You SAID you wouldn’t hurt Daddy Will!”

Hannibal sighed, Will’s arms flailing and Abigail’s cries and fists not ruffling him in the least. “I know, darling, but Daddy Will isn’t being reasonable.” Finally, Will went quiet, and Hannibal pulled his head out and checked his pulse. “Now, Abigail, what we need to do is-”

Hannibal never saw the rolling pin before it hit him hard in the back of the head, but he did hear Abigail admonish before he lost consciousness, “You’re BOTH being VERY BAD.”

****

Hannibal awoke with a splitting headache, and a vague awareness that he was restrained again. He opened his eyes, and found himself back in the basement, tied to the same chair, but this time he was clad only in his underwear and his nightshirt, damp from the struggle with Will...

And this time, Will Graham was opposite him, also tied to a chair, beautiful brown curls dripping onto his white shirt in a most appealing manner. It was a lovely sight to wake up to, Hannibal decided, despite the terrible headache.

Will grunted just then, and with obvious effort lifted his head and cracked his neck. “You again.”

“Time seemed to have returned us to the moment the teacup shatters,” Hannibal offered, then paused for a moment, because even to him that didn’t quite make sense.

Abigail must have really hit him hard.

“I still have the teacup, it DIDN’T shatter!” Abigail’s tiny voice offered. “You two were VERY BAD. You need to talk. So I’m HIDING, and I WON’T come out and let either of you go until you do!” Hannibal looked to where the voice was coming from, and saw that his coffee table seemed to be wearing a pair of adorable patent leather shoes. Will’s eyes followed his, saw the shoes, then met Hannibal’s eyes and smiled involuntarily with annoyed amusement, before he realized what he was doing and broke the eye contact.

Hannibal felt a little disappointed that the nice moment they’d had ended so soon, but then he set about testing the restraints.

“I taught her how to tie knots,” Will sighed, not even trying. “She’s very good. We won’t be getting out.”  
  


“Then I suppose we should talk, as the young lady requests.”

Will looked very tired, like he’d tried rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes if only his hands were free. “I don’t know what there is to talk about, Hannibal. You’re a murderer.”

Hannibal just gazed at him levely. “So are you.”

Will bit his cheek and shook his head. “No. No I’m not. Not like you. I only hurt those who hurt others. It’s different.”

Hannibal was reaching the end of his patience, which was a remarkable feat and a sign of just how desperately he wanted this to work. “I really don’t see how the fact that you watched ‘Dexter’ has anything to do with this.”

“This is _ not _ like _ Dexter _ !” Will snapped. “I don’t have some _ Dark Passenger _ , I don’t have compulsions- I can _ stop _ . It’s just _ better _ for everyone else if I don’t!” Will hissed, looking like the wild, dangerous thing that he was.

“Then stop,” Hannibal retorted. “Stop now.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll stop if you do.”

Will rolled his eyes. “You have no remorse. You think the people you kill are cattle. You won’t stop.”

“I can compromise,” Hannibal offered. “Redirect me. Make your quest mine. Make your _ prey _ mine. I can be an ally, not an enemy, Will.”

Will bit his cheek again, his lips a thin line, uncertainty written all over his face. He sighed, looking just behind Hannibal.

“_ If _ … if. It’s a big gamble, Hannibal. _ If _ it were just me, maybe I’d gamble on this. On you. But I have Abby to think of. And these… presentations, you do, these tableaus, this… _ garden kabuki _. You know, I may have just left you alone entirely, may have just… left the Ripper to his sounders, but then I saw this garden, heard the stories about the cookies and the cider and I just couldn’t bear to think about you luring these children-”

“I don’t lure children!” Hannibal interrupted indignantly. “I would never hurt a child. It’s low, it’s weak, it’s _ beneath _ me to harm a child.”

It was the closest to coming unravelled that Hannibal had become, and Will looked at him, intrigued. 

“But- you _ do _ want the children to come. You do this all to bring them in, to have the house full of people- the sister, that was true. You miss her.”

“I do miss her. And I like children,” Hannibal said honestly. “Children know things adults forget, and trust their instincts- instincts we spend their entire lives making them unlearn.”

Will looked at him, considering. “You’re lonely.”

Hannibal felt his jaw clench. This man had been undoing him all night. But then he made himself relax. Honesty had worked well with Will so far. So he forced himself to be vulnerable and say,

“I hadn’t known that I was until you two came to my door tonight.”

Will smiled, small and slightly shamed and gorgeous. “It seems cruel to force such a realization on someone.”

“It’s only cruel to make them realize, then to abandon them.” Hannibal swallowed. “Are you going to abandon me, Will?”

Will just looked at him, then shook his head. “No, no- I don’t think we’re going to do that- are we, Abby?”

The coffee table spoke. “Daddy Will, are you and Hannibal done fighting?”

“Are we?” Will asked, eyebrow quirked.

“I was never fighting you, Will- you were fighting yourself.”

Will rolled his eyes again. “Oh, PLEASE don’t psychoanalyze me. You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.”

“After tonight, I think I can confidently say I would like you in any capacity you will let me know you.”

Will blushed, and Abigail emerged from the coffee table, ax in hand. She freed Will’s hands first, then Hannibal’s, and placed the tiny cup in Hannibal’s numb fingers. 

“See?” She said. “I didn’t break it.”

“No,” Hannibal replied, smiling at them both. “It is whole and intact.”

“Shall I make us coffee, Will? Perhaps some cocoa for Abigail?”

They smiled back, and Hannibal saw a fresh day dawning in both their blue eyes.

***

“I ate ALL the mushrooms, Hannibal- can I please have dessert? Please?”

Hannibal tutted, looking at Abigail’s plate. “What do you say, Will? I still see a lot of protein on the plate.”

Will smiled indulgently at Abigail. “It’s Christmas Eve, Hannibal, and you know herring is an acquired taste.” Will sipped his wine. “And she is _ eight _.” 

“It’s tradition,” Hannibal said, even as he stood to retrieve the sweet pastries that had been waiting for the end of the meal. He placed them in front of his blue eyed darlings, and sat back to smile broadly at them. 

Hannibal was supremely happy. The past two months had been the most incredible of his life, and it was all due to the beautiful brunettes sitting in front of him. His gorgeous, dark, brilliant boyfriend, and his boyfriend’s bright, funny daughter. The morning after Halloween, he had seen them fed and off on their way, and Saturday had come and Will had returned, as promised. 

And he came back again. And again. And the house was full of him, and of Abigail, and of the seven dogs Abigail had referenced that first night. (Hannibal was also more fond of Buster than the others, but Will did seem to be more partial to Winston, as Will’s daughter had noted.)

Hopefully, soon she would be _ their _ daughter, Hannibal thought as he palmed the box in his pocket.

It had been a dream, and so this Christmas, Hannibal had requested off- an oddity for him, but his years at the hospital granted him privileges above the other doctors. And he had spent all day preparing Christmas as he had known it as a boy- the house was cleaned top to bottom as were Will, Abigail, the seven dogs, and himself. A beautiful, meatless meal had been theirs, and tomorrow, a beautiful feast- that Will and he had hunted themselves- would be theirs.

Hannibal could think of only one thing that would make him happier.

“Thank you both for indulging me,” Hannibal began. “I have not had a Christmas like this since I was very young. You cannot know what it means to me, to have you both here- as well as your furry pack.” The dogs, who were all curled up by the fire, looked up as though knowing that they were being referenced. 

“I hope you will continue to indulge me just a little more. Where I am from, Old Man Christmas- that is Santa, Abigail- comes right at the end of dinner. I know here tonight, he won’t be coming until later, but I was hoping I might give you some gifts now.”

“That sounds good,” Will said, clearing his throat, appearing nervous for the first time in a while. “I, uh, actually have something for you, too.”

Hannibal blinked, surprised but pleased. “You being here is gift enough, you both know that.”

“Yeah, uh, I know. I mean, I know you- I know that you would say something like that.” Will blushed as he stammered. “I should probably go first. I’ll be a mess until I do.”

“Of course, Will,” Hannibal was slightly disappointed to be delayed, but curious what his darling had gotten him.

“Well, Abby and I were talking, and we both think- I mean, I want- oh, hell,” Will muttered, fishing into his own pocket and dropping to his knees. “I know, I know this is too soon, and it’s crazy, but I’m crazy about you. We’re crazy about you. Marry me? Just, uh, I should be saying this better… but please. Marry me. If you’re ready. I can wait.”

Hannibal was momentarily motionless. Then, slowly, his eyes filled with water, and his own hand left his pocket, clutching the velvet box he had been fingering all evening.

“I’m afraid I cannot wait.” He snuck to a knee as well, opening the box, putting the ring on Will’s finger as Will put one on Hannibal’s.

“I guess that’s a yes?” Will whispered, laughing.

“Yes,” Hannibal said simply, kissing him softly, the dogs coming over to see why their owner was so worked up.

“Did anyone get ME anything?” A soft voice offered, and Will and Hannibal turned laughing to look at their daughter.

“Is another father not enough?” Hannibal asked.

“It’s a start,” Abigail smirked, taking an extra pastry from the tray unoffered.

“It is,” Hannibal agreed. “It’s an excellent start.”


End file.
